needle.

a cold line of metal piercing my skin, injecting me, traveling through my bloodstream. i can’t feel it anymore. shots don’t hurt as much as feelings do. injecting me with poisoning and made up scenarios of what could’ve been. they say i’m young and i don’t know what i want. they say i’m confused, naive and desperate. despite being broken and lost, i still am able to feel. maybe not the same. people coming in and out inject me with their poison that i am left to live with. teaching me lessons left in my bloodstream for years to come. i thought i would build up an immunity but instead it has weakened me. no longer am i cured, but i am sick…